


Miles High

by vega_voices



Series: Sleeps with Butterflies [8]
Category: CSI, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 12:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Enhanced euphoria?” She whispered into his ear. “You want to try an experiment, Doctor Grissom? So you can cite your own sources?”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miles High

**Title:** Miles High  
 **Series:** [Sleeps with Butterflies](http://vega-voices.livejournal.com/tag/sleeps%20with%20butterflies)  
 **Author:** vegawriters  
 **Fandom:** CSI  
 **Pairing:** Grissom/Sara  
 **Timeframe:** Late season 5.  
 **Rating:** For your adult eyes only.  
 **A/N:** [33ee](http://33ee.tumblr.com/) on tumblr asked if people thought Grissom and Sara were members of the Mile High club. Well, challenge accepted! This is part of the [Sleeps with Butterflies](http://vega-voices.livejournal.com/tag/sleeps%20with%20butterflies) series and holds all of the warnings associated with this series.  
 **Disclaimer:** I don’t own, don’t claim to own, although I wish I could have a hand in writing them. Seriously. Please don’t sue me. Hire me instead.

 **Summary:** _“Enhanced euphoria?” She whispered into his ear. “You want to try an experiment, Doctor Grissom? So you can cite your own sources?”_

Sara wasn’t really a fan of flying. She always requested an aisle seat so she could stretch her legs out, but that meant she was awakened on a regular basis by sugary sweet sarcastic flight attendants who asked her to move so they could get the carts past. Reading was hard – she never knew when the motion sickness would strike and as a result, her reading material was limited to Newsweek or Rolling Stone or some other magazine she could ditch and not wonder what she’d missed. Yet, without fail, her laptop bags were always jammed with the latest forensic journals. Just in case. Of course, this time, they’d been running late thanks to complications on a case, so she hadn’t had time to grab her usual light reading supplies. At least she had Gil to talk to.

She settled in while he stowed the luggage. It appeared, at least for this first leg of the trip to Atlanta, that the plane was not full. It gave them the chance to slide their roller-bags and laptops in the overhead compartment, giving them some bit of leg room. He had the window. She had the aisle. But if the seat between them remained vacant, she had no intention of staying put.

He’d wrangled their attending this conference together out of somewhere and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was paying his own way. She was presenting to a room full of fellow forensic scientists on the specifics of physics as it related to materials trace analysis. As far as she knew, he was just attending.

Not that she was complaining.

The cabin door closed and the middle seat remained empty. Gil looked at her; Sara raised the arm rest and scooted closer. He spread a thin airplane blanket over their bodies and she cuddled up as best she could. “They’re going to make me sit up and put on my seat belt for takeoff,” she grumbled into his shoulder. The rumble of a chuckle through his body was her answer. But they had some time and she was happy to let his fingers trace abstract patterns on his arm. Hers did the same to his thigh.

“You ever think how much more money you’d make by not assigning yourself to a lab?” She glanced at him. “You’d spend your time teaching and presenting and showing up at disgusting crime scenes to consult on some horrifically bug-desiccated corpse.”

“You could do the same thing, you know. Show up and give your consult to some scene that’s been destroyed and needs a physicist to put it back together again.” He paused and looked at her. “I like having a home base.”

She smiled and leaned in. “I do too.”

The kiss was much more forceful than she’d planned, but they were away from the lab for five days and she planned to get as much out of this week as she could. No other CSI in the country would care if they walked around the conference together. They could be out and open and she knew the only reason they had separate hotel rooms booked was to keep up appearances with the lab. She had no intention of spending any time in hers. She also knew he’d packed the silk scarf from her toy box. At least it wouldn’t leave marks on her wrists.

The flight attendant walked by, reminding them to buckle seat belts, and Sara noted the grin on the woman’s face. Did she and Gil look like newlyweds? Fresh off an elopement to Vegas? The idea terrified her – the two of them, married, committed to each other in every sense of the word. Yes, she loved him, but this was all new and fresh and different and healthy for the first time in five years. The idea of people looking at them and thinking they were married? What were his thoughts on the subject? What did she really want out of his relationship with him?

“Stop over-thinking,” he whispered in her ear, interrupting her thought process. His hand moved up on her thigh and squeezed and she bit her lip. Bastard. He knew her too well. He was also tormenting her. His fingers that close and she was wet and uncomfortable and they had a long flight.

Although.

It was a rather empty flight. And they were toward the back. Near the lavatory.

Under the blanket, she took her turn to fondle, and didn’t just stop with a tease. Her hand landed on his crotch and she stroked him through his jeans. His fingers tightened on her thigh and he looked at her. Blue eyes became black as his pupils dilated. He hardened under her ministrations and she wished she’d worn a skirt. It would make her new plan so much easier.

But it wasn’t like they’d ever taken the easy road.

“Enhanced euphoria?” She whispered into his ear. “You want to try an experiment, Doctor Grissom? So you can cite your own sources?”

He growled softly. His hand moved behind her head and brought their lips together. This time he bit and nipped and it lasted through taxi and takeoff and Sara wouldn’t have cared if Ecklie was sitting one row over. Tasting Gil was so much more important than any stupid lab regulation. The change in altitude increased her reaction to the kiss and she held on, gasping, when they broke for air.

Under the blanket, his hand was not idle. He worked her through the seam of her jeans and Sara bit her lip, knowing that to cry out would expose anything they were doing. She pressed back, moving her hips just enough, and the slight burst of energy in her body wasn’t enough to move the earth, but she felt the flush of their heightened states and chuckled. “That isn’t fair,” she whispered.

“All is fair with you,” he teased back.

This wasn’t over. He wasn’t going to rub her to a half-assed completion and get away with doing nothing else for the rest of the flight. But the look on his face told her the challenge had been accepted. He knew her body, knew that she could take a long time to climax. This was her prep. If she was halfway there by the time they made it into the lavatory, they’d both get what they wanted. Still, they waited to make the move.

They stayed where they were, the blanket covering them, hands idly stroking. The drink cart rolled by. She ordered a ginger ale. He, bourbon. They split a bag of stale pretzels. She rambled about her presentation. His hand stayed under the blanket, keeping her hyper aware. Finally the movie screens clicked on and the flight attendants were no longer wandering. She stretched, looked at him, stood up, and made her way down the aisle to the lavatory. The flight attendant was distracted with the coffee pots and she slipped inside, slid her jeans down her legs – trapping her ankles in the process, and waited.

Five minutes later there was a rap on the door. It opened and Gil stepped in and in his haste to pin her back against the sink, she hoped he remembered to lock it behind him.

The secret to airplane sex was making it good and fast at the same time, and then accepting there was a damned good chance you’d be caught making your exit. Lines formed at unexpected times and people rightly assumed that someone emerging from the lavatory meant it was empty, so you had to exit together without attracting attention.

All of that only added to the moment. Playing with the lure of being caught was as exciting as the biological reaction to stimulation at 30,000 feet. She opened his jeans, he shoved aside her panties, and the foreplay from before meant they were ready. He plunged into her, maintaining his balance with his hands on either side of her head, pressed against the mirror. She added leverage, her long legs coming up as far as her trapped ankles would allow. He was cursing in her ear, reducing this to the fucking ritual it was, and she responded. Sometimes, she liked being Gil Grissom’s whore.

The coupling lasted exactly four minutes. Sara lost herself in the orgasm, her head spinning with the mixture of endorphins and high altitude and the rush of the moment. He grunted her name and pulled her hair as he came and only at the last second did she keep herself from screaming. They were both trembling. He waited a moment before pulling out, taking the time to wrap his arms around her and they clung to each other, his lips pressed to her temple, hers to his neck.

“Well,” he finally said, pulling back and readjusting clothes. Sara shimmied her jeans back up her legs. Really, sex in confined places like this was rather awkward when it came to clothing. “I now have a control sample.”

She giggled and pulled him close for a kiss. “We do have a flight home …”

He just smirked at her before cracking open the door and peeking out. The coast was clear – the few people in the back of the plane were either asleep or engrossed in the movie. The flight attendant knew enough to ignore them. Leaving the faint smell of sex behind in the lavatory, they walked back to their seats and curled up under the blanket once more.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Gil whispered into her ear, his hand already high up on her thigh. “How quiet do you think you can be, Sara?”

She gulped and looked at him and she shuddered just a bit in anticipation.

It was going to be a very long flight.


End file.
